Spyder's Secret
by heyits.reagan
Summary: He once called them friends. Now? They're a bad influence he can't shake. Spyder tries leaving his past behind, but they're harder to lose than he thought. Lucky for him, a certain varsity player just happens to be walking through the park.


So I have a headcanon that the reason Ryan and Harris seem to act closer is because in middle school, Spyder hung out with a different crowd. Also, he admitted to having been to jail, so this is my take on that. Enjoy! :)

* * *

Spyder yawned. He leaned against the guardrail and rested his chin in his hand as he watched the skaters before him. A young adult who graduated the year before rolled past him, jumping in the air and spinning the board between his feet. A former sophomore at Bay City High leapt onto the guardrail a few feet away from Spyder, waving his arms frantically as his board wobbled. He lost his balance and crashed to the ground behind the rail. Spyder rolled his eyes and carelessly pushed his own skateboard back and forth with his foot.

"Yo, Spyder! Why so dead today, bro?" one of the older guys asked, skidding to a stop in front of the freshman.

Spyder shrugged. "Just tired from school." It was four o'clock on a Wednesday. He and the rest of the group were at the skate park, sitting at the top of a half-pipe and scaring away any child who tried to approach. Spyder looked across the park, wondering if Ryan would show up. He'd been talking about a new trick he saw online that he'd been dying to try. Spyder hoped he didn't see his friend until later.

"School," the sophomore repeated, a ghostly smile on his face. "I remember when that used to be a problem. You should just drop out, dude. Makes life a whole lot easier."

Spyder stared at him, a bored expression on his face. He'd heard that advice three times that week already. The group was constantly trying to persuade him to drop out of school. They said he didn't need it, that it didn't matter. Spyder shook his head slowly. He thought they were cool once. Looking back now, he wondered how he could ever be so stupid.

"I'm not dropping out," Spyder muttered. "It's actually not as bad as you think."

"Not as bad! Weren't you just complaining about how your friend's brother humiliated you on your first day?" the leader Greg exclaimed, walking over to the boy. Greg was a seventeen year old dropout who'd been in juvie so many times he practically lived there. The judge threatened jail the next time he did something stupid. Greg was tall and had muscles built over living in the slums of the city. His blond hair was constantly dirty and he always had cuts and bruises across his body. He wasn't somebody Spyder ever wanted to mess with.

"That was then," Spyder argued. "He's not so bad now."

"He's gone soft!" someone shouted; Spyder didn't care who it was.

"I'm not feeling this anymore. I liked it when I was just hanging out with friends, but now I have to explain to my parents why my clothes smell like weed." His parents didn't know exactly what weed smelled like, but they knew there was an odd scent whenever he'd come home from school. He had lied and said Harris's mom bought a plant with a strong smell that was supposed to relieve you of your stress. Oddly enough, his lie worked.

"Hey, you took an oath. There's no getting out of this now," the sophomore dropout reminded Spyder.

"Not really. You told me I could leave if I wanted to, but I didn't want to then. I used to think you guys were cool, but now…"

Greg crossed his arms over his chest. "You think you're too good for us now, is that it?" Spyder shook his head and yawned again.

"No, of course not." Spyder lied straight through his teeth, just as Greg taught him once. Spyder was actually beginning to develop more self worth. From the start of the school year, he began to realize he actually _was_ too good for these skate rats.

"Are you forgetting who was there for you when no one else was?"

Spyder grit his teeth. A lot of people could've been there for Spyder. Harris and Ryan never left. These people just offered something Spyder's friends never would.

"Here," someone said behind him. Something was passed around the ground in a metal flask. Spyder shifted uncomfortably, watching the container move from hand to hand. Greg held it to Spyder, a knowing grin on his face.

"Drink it, and remember who your real friends are."

Spyder gingerly took the flask. He shook it, listening to the liquid slosh around inside. The smell was strong and burned his nostrils, but it was familiar. Too familiar.

He remembered the first time he ever tried alcohol. It was in seventh grade, when Spyder only had only one class with Harris and Ryan. When you're not in classes with your friends, you often don't talk to them much. It wasn't so bad until they started hanging out more and sharing inside jokes and doing more stuff together. Suddenly, it felt like Spyder was on the outside looking in. He didn't like it. One day as he was at the skate park alone, Greg and a few of his friends approached Spyder. Offered him a drink. Asked about his life. Listened to his problems. It was the most relaxed Spyder had felt in weeks.

Now, staring into the dark metal container, Spyder wondered how he could've ever been so stupid. In the past two years, he'd known of at least five people who died due to some sort of alcohol problem. He lost an uncle to a drunk driving incident last spring. Spyder shook his head. To think, he was actually going to keep drinking this stuff.

"No, thanks," Spyder said, shoving the flask back into Greg's hands. "I'm done with that." Greg was becoming impatient. Quickly, Spyder added, "Look, you guys helped me when I needed it and I'm grateful for that, but I don't need it anymore. I don't need _any_ of this anymore."

"You don't get to just leave. That's not how this works. You're one of us now."

Spyder yawned again. He just wanted to go home and sleep. "What are you going to do to stop me?"

Greg advanced toward him, hands clenched at his sides.

•••••

Across the park, Mark Walker sat on the ground next to the basketball goal. He cracked open a bottle of Gatorade and chugged half of it. He watched his friends carry on the pickup game in front of him, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Mark pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. He hated the feeling of a sweaty shirt clinging to his body.

When the pickup game ended, Mark grabbed his shirt and waved goodbye to his friends. They nodded in return and the varsity players went their separate ways. Mark tossed the shirt over his shoulder and began checking his messages, responding to the ones he missed while he was playing.

Mark looked up as a few teenage girls passed. He winked at them and they giggled to themselves. He chuckled and shook his head; that feeling never got old.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head, expecting to see a squirrel or a bird. Instead, it was a group of people. They were at the skate park, standing in a half circle and watching something. Curious, Mark stopped in his tracks and watched them. He'd seen the group around town before and never wanted to interact with them (they have a bad reputation for being drug addicts and dropouts), but he still wondered what they were looking at.

Somebody yelled within that circle. It was an angry shout followed by a chorus of shocked gasps and whispers. Mark fought with himself, wondering if taking a closer look would be a bad idea or not. He almost walked away until he heard a voice from inside that group.

"Get away from me!"

Mark's surprised he recognized it, honestly. Outside of Mech-X4, he never cared for Ryan's friends. Heck, even _inside_ of Mech-X4, he never cared for Ryan's friends. Not really. But when he heard that cry for help, something inside of him just… He didn't know. He didn't know what he was thinking, actually. All he knew was that he had to stop whatever was happening.

He shoved through the posse of teenagers. Some spit curse words and others mumbled their annoyances. When he finally pushed his way to the front, he froze at the sight before him.

Greg Weaver, a kid Mark's known since eighth grade. He was held back just before high school and dropped out his sophomore year. Mark and Greg never really spoke, but they knew who each other was. Greg raised his head and made eye contact with Mark.

Between them, Spyder sat on the ground, nursing a bloody nose.

"What's going on here?" Mark demanded.

"None of your business," Greg spat. Mark glared and stepped forward. He offered a hand to Spyder, who took it reluctantly. Mark noticed the hesitation as he pulled Spyder to his feet.

"You okay?" Mark asked, looking Spyder over.

Spyder shrugged and remained silent.

"This doesn't involve you, Walker," Greg spit.

"It does now," Mark growled. "Touch him again and see what happens."

Greg clenched his jaw, but didn't make another move. He saw Mark playing basketball earlier. He knew the varsity players were still nearby somewhere. If he hit Mark Walker, he'd have a whole team to deal with.

Mark gently pulled Spyder away. "Let's go." Spyder felt the heavy stares against his back. He freed his arm from Mark's grasp and wiped the blood from his nose.

When they were far enough away, Spyder grinned. "Did Mark Walker just _protect_ me?"

"Tell anybody and I'll kill you."

"Fair enough," Spyder laughed. He fell silent and rubbed his neck. "You can't tell Ryan and Harris."

"That you're apart of a gang?"  
"It's not a gang. It's a-"

"Cult?" Spyder rolled his eyes. Mark pursed his lips. "Okay, seriously, why can't I tell them?"

"Because I don't want to explain any of that to them."

"Explain it to me instead then."

"Why do you even care?"

"I don't, but I'm really curious."

Spyder scoffed and sighed. He played with the zipper on his jacket. "Middle school was hard, okay? My parents split and I didn't have anybody to talk to."

Mark frowned. "What are you talking about? Ryan and Harris never left."

"I know, but we didn't have any classes together and we didn't talk as much and I kinda just forgot. But then Greg and his friends showed up one day and talked to me. They listened to me, offered me a drink, and I got to forget everything for a little while."

"They _offered_ you a _drink_?"

"Yep, and I took it."

" _Why_?!"

"You've never got that adrenaline rush from doing something you're not supposed to do?" Spyder raised an eyebrow. Mark huffed and rolled his eyes. "Besides, I was curious."

"So what happened just now? Why'd he hit you?"

Spyder chewed on his lip. "I wanted out. I've wanted to be done with them since school started again. I don't know if you know this, but I didn't finish eighth grade with the rest of my class. I was at the detention center across town."

Mark's eyes widened. "You got _arrested_?! Dude, who _are_ you?"

"I was charged with drinking underage and truancy. That was when I realized I had to get out, but I didn't know how to say it. Greg's a scary dude."

Slowly, Mark nodded. "I guess so."

"Anyways yeah, that's my story."

"Dude, they won't judge you if you tell them."

"I know." Although, a part of him doubted. "I'm not gonna drag them into this, though."

Mark sighed. "Just don't resort to alcohol again, okay? If you really have to, just talk to me. I'd much rather you talk to your _friends_ , but I'm here too."

Spyder smiled. "Thanks, Mark."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll deny everything if you tell anyone."

Spyder pursed his lips. "Yeah, okay. Don't want anyone thinking Mark Walker actually cares for other people."

"Now you're getting it!" Mark slapped his back and laughed.

After the two departed, Spyder began his walk home. He wiped the blood from his nose again and sighed. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he read through messages from the group chat. Harris was complaining about Veracity and Ryan was teasing him about it. Spyder chuckled.

He knew it was bad to keep secrets from friends, but this one would have to remain in the shadows for a little longer. He wasn't the same person he was in middle school, but he wasn't ready to have his past out in the open. For now, he'd sit back and relax with his friends by his side, and maybe fight a monster or two.


End file.
